


Coming Home

by LoveDrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Everyone is confessing their affections and love, Fluff, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, I just can't help myself, Love, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Non-Consensual Drug Use, confession of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveDrift/pseuds/LoveDrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Drift's banishment, he sets out for the one place he was always welcome. Rodion. The Dead End. And things aren't any better for him now than they were then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Cybertron is in it's primordial state, but I am assuming that the gutters are still very intact because I need them to be for my story. This came to me, much like my other one and I need to get it out. Rodimus will also be a big old dick in this one too. Sorry to my Roddy fans. :P I hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I know this chapter is super short, but two is already at over 1K so I hope that makes up for it.

Some things never change. Despite the primordial state Cybertron was in, the gutters of Rodion and the Dead End hadn’t changed a bit. Even change hadn’t wanted any part of here. Drift draws in a deep intake and breathes in the familiar aroma of home. Funny how being somewhere, just picking up the scent can bring back old feelings…old habits. Bad habits. Oh he could taste it alright, could already feel the need returning, burning hedonism through his lines, itching for more. Syk. Circuit boosters. Oh this was bad…yet, no one was around to care. He had failed at everything he had tried. He was cast out and discarded again. What does it matter? Drift is back in the only place that ever wanted him. The only “home” that hadn’t spit him out. Sure it chewed ya up, but it never spit ya out; it swallows you, consumes you and isn’t it amazing how you always return “home” to roost in times of trouble and sorrow. At least this was a close to a home as Drift would ever get. He couldn’t bear to return to Theophany. Not after last time. It wasn’t home. It could have been, had things of worked out differently. If Wing was still alive…if…if Drift had never left…if New Crystal City wasn’t destroyed by Primus only knows what. If only he wasn’t banished from the Lost Light. That WAS kinda like home. Drift absently rubs his chest where his Autobrand used to be, wincing slightly, the sting of its removal still raw both inside and out. Drift gives a snort and shakes his helm. “Wasn’t counting on that…” he announces into the vacant alleyway, kicking an empty can of engex. That had hurt. Rodimus, his best friend, BEST FRIEND, hadn’t said a word of it! He hadn’t mentioned banishing Drift! But he did. Ripped off his Autobrand in front of everyone and cast him out, much to the happiness of all who saw. Everyone except Ratchet, that is. “Aw, Ratch…” There was so much he wanted to say that crazy aft medic…Drift wanted to tell him the truth. He couldn’t bear to have Ratchet doubt him, couldn’t bear if Ratchet were to hate him. No one else mattered but him. Obviously Rodimus didn’t give a slag. He couldn’t believe it…hell he still can’t! How could he!? How COULD he!? Threw him away like nothing…Gasket was wrong about him, Wing was wrong about him…Gasket. Memories of Gasket come flooding back as Drift continues to pick his way through the detritus of the Dead End looking for a spot to hide…to call home.

***

For the umpteenth time today, Ratchet facepalms as he listens to Rodimus drone on and on. Ratchet still wants to strangle him even months later. He knows that there was no way Drift could have pulled off the whole Overlord incident by himself and he has an aching suspicion his captain knows a whole lot more than he’s letting on. Rodimus, that arrogant fragging idiot has no idea what he did when he banished Drift. He has no slagging clue just what he set in motion by doing what he did. Drift is far more fragile than Ratchet ever thought. He could see it in the swordsmech optics when he helped him up the day he was cast out. Oh how Ratchet just wanted to pull Drift into his arms and tell him everything would be okay. UGH! Banishment of all things! Ripping off Drift's Autobrand! Slagger!! Ratchet slams his fist on the bar, effectively shutting up every mech in his vicinity. Rodimus, that cocky fragger, just shoots him a curious look, clearly not understanding at all. Moron. _**Oh how I would love to shove my fist down your throat, you son of a-**_

“Ratchet? You okay there buddy?” Swerve asks, concerned for what exactly, Ratchet isn’t sure.

“Fine. I’m taking the bottle with me, Swerve,” Ratchet turns and leaves, bottle in tow, heading back to his quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters. I apologize. Probably full of errors. I apologize. I hope you like! Chapter three is in the works and almost done...well, sorta...lol...and again, sorry to my Roddy fans out there.

Somehow, Ratchet isn’t as excited as he thought he would be to come home. Cybertron is …different and it has nothing to do with the landscape. They’ve been docked here for several weeks and he just can’t seem to find any joy in anything anymore. He’d never admit out loud, but bickering with Drift, actually, any interaction with Drift, brought him tremendous pleasure. The way Drift’s finials would blush and his optics would sparkle just hit all the right places in the CMO, warming him to his very spark. That flaky swordsmech makes his spark flutter something fierce. 

“Well I haven’t seen you smile like that in months, Ratchet! What are you thinking of? Or should I say who?” 

The smile drains from Ratchet’s face as he watches Rodimus slide into the seat across from him. Maccadam’s was bustling, as usual and for once, Ratchet was enjoying a decent brew, wallowing in his thoughts-alone- just how he liked it. Rodimus was definitely the last mech he wanted to see. 

“Now that’s not nice…what’d I do? You were just happy like two seconds ago!”

“What’d'ya want, Rodimus?” Ratchet, downs the rest of his drink and sets it down preparing to go, before he has to suffer any further.

“What I want is to go and get Drift back,” Rodimus smirks and leans back in his seat, arms extended to rest on the top of the booth, watching as Ratchet drops back into his seat. “Yeah, that’s right…I thought you’d like that. I’m not as dumb as you think, Ratchet. I know it’s been burning you…what I did to him. You just don’t understand-“

Ratchet felt his spark stop and then start again the moment Rodimus spoke the swordsmechs name. His attention was now effectively locked onto the sports car in front of him. “Get to the point,”

“The point, is this. I overheard some talk in here about a sword carrying mech in Rodion. The Dead End precisely. So, I’m thinking it’s gotta be Drift, though why he would go back there, is beyond me. Ugh…talk about disgusting…anyway…Magnus and I are gonna go looking and I thought you’d wanna come,”

“Damn slagging right I’m coming! Let’s go!” Ratchet practically leaps up, all ready to go. “I know where he’ll be-“

“Hang on, we’re not leaving now. It’s dark! We leave tomorrow, first thing. Now sit back down….er…please?”

“You listen to me, ‘Captain’ and you listen good. If it is true and Drift IS there, then we need to leave now. Being back in the Dead End is not good for him on so many levels…levels you cannot even being to understand. You did this, Rodimus. This is your fault and I swear on the Matrix if Drift is so much as SCRATCHED in any way, I will kick your aft so hard you’ll revert back to Hot Rod. DO I make myself clear?”

“Frag, Ratch-“

“No, you don’t get to call me that,” Ratchet fights the urge to reach across the table and throttle Rodimus. 

Rodimus rolls his optics and smirks, disregarding his Chief Medical Officer’s “threats”, “Calm down, RATCHET. First of all, things happened that you don’t know anything about. This was on Drift. Not me. This was HIS decision,"

Ratchet glares darkly and opens his mouth to object, the urge to strangle his captain increasing by the second. What the hell is wrong with him!?

"Tsch! Let me finish,” Rodimus effectively shushes the irate medic and leans forward, softening his expression. “Look, I miss him too, that’s why I want to go find him…I…really like Drift. I mean, what’s not to like? He’s so fragging hot! Those hips, those thighs! He’s almost as good looking as me!” Almost as good looking, Rodimus thinks with a smirk. “Anyway, I have no clue as to why he is back in the retched gutters, and to be honest, I don’t care, but I think it’s time I rescue him. I wanna let him suffer just a tad longer so that he truly appreciates the save. So, that being made clear, we leave tomorrow.” Rodimus stands up and flashes Ratchet his trademark grin; pausing by the medic. He faces the exit and rests a hand on Ratchets shoulder. “And just in case you get any ideas on, well, ya know, slipping out earlier, I’ve provided you with your own guards-at every possible exit- and Magnus will be staying with you tonight. First thing tomorrow, RATCH. First thing.” Rodimus pats Ratchets’ shoulder and walks out the door.

Ratchet growls and squeezes his glass so hard that it shatters in his hand. “Cocky, slagging son of a glitch!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one is longer...if you really love Rodimus, you are REALLY not gonna like this at all. I do hope that those of you who take the time to read really enjoy it. 
> 
> My apologies for any and all errors.

“Thought you said you knew where he was,” Rodimus huffs his irritation at Ratchet as the trio progress further into the Dead End. “We’ve been at this all day and still no sign of Drift! I hate it here! I feel like my plating is crawling!”

Ratchet rolls his optics trying so very hard to reign in his growing anger at Rodimus. “Imagine living here. And I have a few more hunches…”

“No. Fraggin’. Way. It is disgusting here. I can’t believe Drift is from here. He must have been filthy like all the time,” The captain shudders in revulsion at his thoughts.

“Ya think? Why the hell do you think he is always spotless? You really have no idea, do you?” Arrogant, privileged…telling himself to calm down, Ratchet continues to move forward at a crawl, searching every crevice, every hole.

Ultra Magnus remains silent bringing up the rear, inwardly cringing, his optics focused on a small spec of grime on Rodimus’ spoiler, slowing driving him mad.

 

“Do you even know where we are?! I-gah! Magnus! That’s my spoiler! Wha-what are you-“ Rodimus gawks and flails his arms.

“My apologies, Rodimus, but you had this spec,” his brow furrows in concentration as he wipes at the dirt, “…got it! …Spec of dirt on your spoiler that needed to be removed. I took care of it for you.” Now fully satisfied, Ultra Magnus smirks and returns to his assessment of their surroundings. 

Ratchet shakes his helm and rolls his optics again at Ultra Magnus and Rodimus. “Yes, I know exactly where we are. We are two blocks from my old clinic,” Ratchet carefully steps around some rubble and turns his focus to a small form huddled in a corner inside a broken down building further back in the alley way. “I wonder…quiet you two. I think I may have found him…”

“What?! Really?” Rodimus trots over to Ratchet, nearly tripping over the rubble his CMO avoided. “Is that him? In the corner?”

Ratchet slowly walks closer not wanting to frighten the mech curled up in on himself. He knows it’s Drift. He’d know that form anywhere. “Shhh! It’s Drift. Don’t scare him. He’s recharging, it looks like,” Ratchet stops several feet away and sets down his medikit, deciding how he should approach Drift. His spark aches as he takes the swordsmech in, knowing that Drift’s curled up position is indicative of fear and injury.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go get him!” Giving in to his impulse, Rodimus rushes over to Drift and grabs him, pulling him up.

Ratchet watches in horror and yells after Rodimus. “No! You fool! Don’t!!”

Drift feels himself being hauled up and panics, sheer terror lashes out in his EM field and blazes in his white, wild optics. “ARGH! LET GO!” He squirms as best he can given his condition; energon levels dangerously low, processor sluggish causing him to not recognize anyone at first waking up from being passed out from both fuel deprivation and energon loss, in agony. 

“Slag, Drift, you stink! Ugh! What the frag have you been doing?” Rodimus promptly drops Drift, who crumples to the ground in a shivering heap.

“…s-sorry…” Drift, flinches and weakly curls back in on himself; shaking and shivering, terrified and hurting.

“What the frag is the matter with you?!” Ratchet rushes to the white mechs side, his spark breaking for him, and cautiously reaches out. Ratchet fills his EM field with comfort and security. “Drift, it’s me, Ratchet. I’m here to help you. You’re safe. It will be alright.”

“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with HIM? Is he…is that? It is! He reeks of transfluid! Ugh! Disgusting!” Rodimus backs away and openly gawks at Drift, completely disgusted.

Drift flicks his bleary optics between Ratchet and Rodimus trying to make sense of things, the fog in his processor from the Syk combined with the lack of fuel making everything so very…cloudy, confusing. “I…uh…R-Ratch?” A small pulse of hope flares out in his EMF as he settles his gaze on Ratchet, trying a small, weak smile. 

“Hey, kid,” Ratchets spark flutters when Drift smiles at him. Oh how he missed that smile. The CMO returns the smile and cups Drift chin, substituting the pad of his pointer finger for a light and looks into the swordsmech optics.

Drift groans as he shuts his optics from the offending light and turns his helm to the side. “…bright…hurts…”

Ratchet frowns at Drift’s reaction and puts his light away, not at all pleased. “How long ago?” 

Hanging his helm, Drift coughs and shakily vents, a slight shiver running through his frame, “...f-few days…a…ago,” he coughs again, this time bringing up some energon. “I-I think…I w-was-,”

Rodimus, no longer able to remain silent, cuts off Drift, drawing the attention of both Ratchet and the swordsmech. “Hey! Helloooooo! Rescue party here! How long what?”

Ratchet glowers up at Rodimus. Just have to have all the attention don’t you, he fumes silently. “Syk, Rodimus, that’s what. And before we go anywhere, I need to repair Drift, he’s in no shape to be moved,” Ratchet subconsciously rests his hand on Drift’s thigh giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze, feeling the distressful EM field of Drift pushing against his own.

Anger bubbles up in Rodimus, surging forth in a violent storm at hearing that Drift used again. He can’t believe he actually admired Drift! He was never anything but an addict and buymech this whole time! “WHAT?! SYK!” Rodimus shakes with rage, his hands balled into fists, glaring down at Drift.

Drift looks up at Rodimus, his best friend, or so he thought. Shame consumes Drift as he meets his former captains' icy glare. “R-Rodimus…please…I-I can expl-“

“Ya know what? I’m done! This is YOUR fault, Drift! No one else’s! Your entire fragged up life has been YOUR fault…Your choice! You never even bothered to get out of here! The Dead End…the gutters! It was your choice to live here and not work…your choice to steal…to kill…to sell your frame. YOUR choice to boost and take Syk. No one else’s. You’re so fragging pathetic! You’re so weak! You have no one to blame but yourself. So stop bringing the rest of us down with YOUR bad decisions. I mean, seriously…who told you to become a buymech? Or to do drugs? Honestly, Drift…you disgust me. I was so wrong about you,” This is crushing him! So weak Drift is. So unlike everything Rodimus ever thought about him. “I thought there was something special about you, but there’s not! This…” Rodimus gestures around them, “…this is who you are, who you’ve ALWAYS been. What I failed to see. You’re nothing but a buymech, addict, piece of gutter trash. I bet you never even trained with the Knights. You probably killed whatever the frag his name was….what was it? Oh yeah, Wing! You killed him and took his swords…no wonder Dai Atlas hated you,” Oooo…that one hurt…bad. Rodimus could see it in Drift’s optics, in the way he flinched. “And to think I almost loved you! Man, am I glad we never fragged, though not like I didn’t try, huh? But no no…you, YOU were too good for it! What a joke! You…better than me!? Yeah right! After all the slag they say in Swerve’s about you…woo boy was I expecting a hell of a damn good frag! Or at least a good blow job! You are a buymech after all. You are nothing, Drift. Nothing! I’m so glad I banished you and ripped off that badge. You don’t deserve it. You’re nothing but gutter trash. Do me a favor and NEVER, EVER come anywhere near me or the other Autobots again. Can your tiny, burned up processor understand that, whore? I’m done with you. Let’s go, Magnus,” Rodimus spits on Drift with a smug, disgusted smirk gracing his face, “You too, Ratchet. I do not authorize the use of medical,” he waves his hands around, “…whatever on buymech addicts. Let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

A collective, stunned silence hangs thick around the four mechs, three of whom are trying to process what just happened.

Drift’s EMF is rampant with devastating self-loathing and pain. Oh Wing…He leans heavily against the wall, energon slowly leaking from his various wounds, helm hanging in shame. His intakes hiccup and sputter his vents raspy and ragged; engine revving hard in distress. The red and white mech trembles and tries to cover his dented panel and transfluid stained thighs, but he can’t, his energon levels are far too low to allow any real movement. Drift’s lower lip quivers as a choked off sob manages to escape his vocalizer, much to his further mortification. If he could get up and run, he would. He stares at the ground, unable to look at anyone, tears streaming down his face. He IS weak. Pathetic. Buymech. Addict. Gutter rat trash. Failure. The words just keep repeating in his processor, each time the sting worsens a little more, chipping away at the fragile shreds of what he has left of his sanity. 

Ultra Magnus is shocked. Stunned and shocked, frozen in place. He takes one look at Ratchet as the CMO stands from his knelt position beside Drift and Ultra Magnus backs up. Ultra Magnus, former Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord…Ultra Magnus, large, hulking mass of mech…Ultra Magnus who faced death countless times…who went toe to toe with Overlord. Ultra Magnus. Backs. Up. From Ratchet. Ratchet! Chief MEDICAL Officer, Ratchet. MEDIC!

Ratchet is…incensed…livid, enraged, furious...emotions nowhere near strong enough to describe the insurmountable rage pulsing through his lines and overriding his medic coding. He feels Drift’s EM field fluxing erratically, consumed in agony, whatever remaining bit of sanity, shattering under the weight of Rodimus’ cruel words. Ratchet snarls and stands, his hand forming into a fist and slamming hard into Rodimus’ face with such ferocity that it dislocates his jaw and dents his face plate. “You slaggin’ arrogant, juvenile, horrible, cruel son of a bitch!! How DARE you! HOW DARE YOU! You have no idea what my Drift has been through! NO IDEA! And yet you…YOU of all people stand here in judgment!? Those choices were all made FOR HIM! Drift never….NEVER stood a slagging chance!!! ARGH! I’LL FRAGGIN’ KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!!” with unrestrained rage, growling and snarling, optics purple, Ratchet lunges for Rodimus. 

Ultra Magnus snaps to attention and jumps between the captain and CMO, barely able to hold Ratchet back. “Whoa! Old friend, please…please stop. Calm yourself. You cannot kill Rodimus,” Without looking behind him, Ultra Magnus yells to Rodimus, “Head back to the ship, Rodimus. I will be right behind you,”

Rodimus snaps his jaw back in place with a loud click and glares darkly at his CMO and former third in command. “You’re both DONE! Finished! Ratchet, consider yourself banished too! Stay with your WHORE!” 

Ratchet screams at the receding form of Rodimus, trying, to no avail, to get at him and release the monster of rage within him. “I’LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR IT I WILL IF I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN!!!!”

Ultra Magnus looks at Ratchet and vents heavily, his voice soft and calm, hands gently grasping the medic’s shoulders. “Is Drift really worth this, Ratchet? Look what he has done to you…my dear, old friend, we all make choices. Drift made his; now you must make yours,” Ultra Magnus shakes his helm and releases his hold of Ratchet, beginning to turn and follow Rodimus. 

Ratchet remains in place, hands balled into fists, shaking as he listens to Ultra Magnus. As Ultra Magnus turns to walk away, Ratchet grabs his shoulder and turns him around. “You’re right, we do. And my choice is to stay here with Drift; I will not leave him…not now, not ever. Every one of us failed him, Magnus. How different would his life have been if the Autobots helped him first? How different would it have been if the Primes would have bothered to care about the homeless and starving? What would you have done to survive? Did it ever occur to you or your beloved captain that his fuel was spiked? Did it ever cross your mind that the transfluid on his thighs was the result of a rape?! That his fuel being spiked was to make it easier to RAPE HIM!? No, it didn’t, did it. You both just assumed he purposely did it to himself. And when he did get high, did you even bother to think that maybe it was to try and forget about the fact that he had to sell himself for fragging fuel!? Were you aware that boosters and Syk take away hunger and are a hell of a lot cheaper than fuel? No, you weren’t and no, you didn’t bother. So I ask again, what would YOU have done to survive? What were YOU doing while he suffered? I was the one down here trying to help while the rest of you turned your backs and acted as if life was wonderful. While the rest of Cybertron enjoyed life, Drift and those like him suffered horrendously. Preyed on by society. I should have made this choice long ago. It’s our own fault he made the choices he did. Not his. And he still tries, dammit! He keeps getting hit and pushed down and stomped on by those who claim to care and he keeps getting back up! When will it stop? How much is Drift supposed to take? And so, to answer your question, is Drift really worth it? You’re Primus damned well slagging right he is!” Ratchet watches as Ultra Magnus frowns and turns around again, leaving to go blindly follow his captain. _**That’s right; go ahead, you turn your back on this poor mech to…just like everyone else did…**_

Ratchet turns back around almost afraid to see the state Drift is in; if his EM field is anything to go by, not good…not good at all. Aw, Drift… Ratchet’s spark drops as he takes in Drift: trembling and shivering, helm hanging low, shoulders turned in, hands covering his ruined equipment, transfluid staining his thighs, dented plating, gash in the soft metal of his cheek, cracked finial, missing spaulders, missing forearm wheels, lines ripped and torn hanging out from various gashes in his frame (courtesy of The Bleeders), leaking oil, coolant and energon, sparking, tires gone from his thighs and the red armor broken, dented and pulled back, scabbards splayed out to the side of him, one leg broken badly and hanging on by a few wires at the knee, and perhaps the worst are the tears dripping off his chin as they roll down from his pale optics. “Drift…” Ratchet slowly walks over to him and kneels beside him. “Drift, look at me…you can’t listen to Rodimus...he was wrong. So very wrong,” He reaches out and touches Drift’s chin only to have the swordsmech twitch and flinch. “Oh Drift, let me help you, please…you need energon first and foremost and I have to get you somewhere safe,”

Drift can’t find the will to speak. He tries to pull away, but he has no strength. He is weak. Rodimus was right. About everything. It always was and will always be his fault. He closes his optics and sighs. His vents are raspy, intakes rattling as he tries so very hard not to sob. _**Please just go, Ratchet. Leave me alone. I don’t deserve your kindness. Just go…**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet and Drift...Magnus and Rodimus...umm...repairs get started...no one wants to be the first to admit how they feel. Guilt, misery...yeah..have I mentioned I suck at summaries? lol

Rodimus storms back to the Lost Light without a word to Ultra Magnus, his spark aching and processor lost in a violent sea of conflicting emotions. He has never felt more horrible, more…confused in his entire life. Even after the whole Overlord thing he didn’t feel like…this! UGH! Drift was his friend. His best friend, and to see him back in the gutter like that, stooping so low-USING! Selling himself! UGH! It was too much…way too much. What had happened to him? And yet…Rodimus still wants Drift. Badly. UGH! He viciously stabs his code into the key pad for his office, stalking in and depositing himself with a huff into his chair, letting his forehelm bang onto desk. And then bang again. And again. And. Again.

“Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus has managed to walk in and sit down unnoticed. Not that it surprised him much given the way the red mechs EM field was fluxing and whipping around as they made their way here. This was going to be difficult, emotions were not Ultra Magnus’ forte-or anything he ever really wanted to deal with, but this…this had to be dealt with. The journey back gave Ultra Magnus plenty of time to process Ratchet’s words. His old friend had been right. About all of it. And Drift, that was not good at all, not that Ultra Magnus ever really, truly LIKED Drift, or trusted him, as of matter of fact, but…still, Drift still has had it rough. To be burdened with the weight of guilt when you are not in fact actually guilty…

“Not now, Magnus. Just…not now,”

“Yes, now, Rodimus. You,” Ultra Magnus clears his vocalizer, getting rid of some of the static feedback, “Rodimus, you need to…to talk about it,” Was he really doing this? “And you should really have First Aid take a look at your jaw. What you said—“

“I know what I said! I meant it! I think…” Was Ultra Magnus really—like REALLY—doing this? Playing Rung? This is bad. Frag frag frag frag! “I’ll go see Aid later. Right now, I…I just wanna be alone. Please?”

Ultra Magnus vents heavily and stands up, pausing a moment before he leaves, his spark going out to his captain, his friend and if he was honest with himself, the one he loves. “Very well, Rodimus. But…er…I’m only a comm away,”

Huh…Magnus? Well there’s fuel for thought… “Thanks, Magnus…”

***

“I’m not leaving ya, kid,” Ratchet very gently picks the trembling swords mech up, despite his earlier assessment of not wanting to move him, but that was back when he had backup. Now, he just wants Drift safe, first and foremost. Ratchet cradles Drift to his chest, holding Drift’s Great Sword in his hand, slightly awkwardly. 

“We need to get to my old clinic. It’s not far. The energon is gonna have to wait till we’re safe. Now you listen to me, kid, you are NONE of those things. That slagger was wrong. DEAD wrong! He doesn’t know you like I do. He has no clue what you have been through. Not to mention he’s an idiot. A big, giant, slagging idiot. What matters is that me, Ratchet, your doctor, your friend, your…”

Conjunx. Oh, what? You didn’t know that, kid? Ya didn’t know that I love you? That we are meant to be together and that I just discovered this? Well frag me in the crankshaft! I’m in trouble… 

“…I believe in you, okay? I will take care of you, Drift. From now on. Forever…okay?” Ratchet carefully makes his way to his clinic, which is remarkably still in one piece. Some things really don’t change. 

More tears slide down Drift’s batter cheeks at Ratchet’s words, the swordsmechs trembling increasing, his shivering getting progressively worse. 

“Hmpf. Brings back memories, don’t it? Never could keep yourself in one piece for me, could ya?” Ratchet gently sets Drift down on the ground and pries open the door. 

A tiny whimper leaves Drift’s vocalizer as Ratchet sets him down, the warmth and security of Ratchet now gone, the urge to be back in his arms overpowering. Drift steals an upward glance at his savior, a million words wanting to take flight from his vocalizer, but only three matter. Only three are what Drift wants—needs—Ratchet to hear…to know.

 

“Huh…that was easy…up ya get,” Ratchet bends down and carefully picks up the silent and trembling swordsmech and his Great Sword, walking into his old clinic and gently setting Drift down again before he drags the door shut. The medic grabs hold of a heavy storage cabinet and drags it over to the door, effectively blocking it, preventing any unwanted “visitors”. “Should keep the idiots out,” Ratchet grins down at Drift and picks the speedster (and his sword) up again.

“Well, it’s only been ransacked a little,” Ratchet chuckles and carries Drift to the back room, using Drift’s Great Sword to wipe debris off the large berth in the far corner. He sets Drift down, holding him upright while he fishes for a cleaning cloth in his subspace and wipes the berth down, shifting Drift so that he can wipe down by his legs. 

Satisfied, Ratchet then lays the white mech down, softly rubbing his finials. “I will be right back. I need to gather the rest of my supplies and secure the entrance. Hang on, Drift. I won’t be long, I promise,”

Drift lolls his helm to the side and stares at the far wall, a sight he’s all too familiar with, not even having the strength to shrug in response to Ratchet. A shaky rattle of his vents is the best he can do. Useless. Worthless. Whore. Addict. Traitor. Another little hitch of his intakes and a sobbing hiss of agony.

Ratchet will slowly kill Rodimus. Yes, very slowly. What the hell is wrong with him! Ratchet growls to himself as he drags pieces of broken berth and shelving units over to the door to aid the cabinet in barricading them in. He knows damn slagging well he won’t be killing anyone, let alone Rodimus, that cocky slagger. His coding won’t allow it. But oh how good it would feel. How could Rodimus say such horrid, heinous, cruel things to Drift?! Drift was supposed to be his best friend! Apparently Ratchet is the only one who knows just how fragile Drift is. Well, all things considered, that’s probably—no, definitely—a good thing. Ratchet pushes a berth over exposing a panel in the floor and starts to pry up on the edges. “Come on you—uhn!—fragger! UGH!” The panel pops up and Ratchet kneels down removing the contents form the hole in the floor. “There we are! Heh heh,” He pulls out a large locked case and unlocks it, going through the contents, mumbling to himself.

 

Drift let his mind wonder as he watches Ratchet fuss about the room. Primus, how did things get to this point? Oh yeah, he had let them. Follow Rodimus wherever he goes. Do what he says. To the pit with what Drift wants. Why should he be allowed any peace? Or love for that matter. And he had let it happen. He lets out shaky sigh and smiles a little as Ratchet rifles through the case, muttering to himself. Oh, Ratchet. Drift watches Ratchet affectionately, so very glad that the medic had found him. But what a state he found him. And that was all Drift’s fault too. He didn’t have the spark to fight them off—mechs who were just trying to fuel, the ones who couldn’t stand Starscream or Bumblebee and who had ventured out alone, and hungry—Drift knew all about that, so when they came after him he didn’t put up a fight. So long as they left his swords alone. Drift had known the low grade energon was spiked and, well, guess a part of him hadn’t cared, so he had let it happen. Maybe Rodimus was right. He is a whore. Once a buymech, always a buymech. Isn’t that what they say? Not like he could have fought them off anyway. Rodimus didn’t exactly give him enough supplies on his ship. He had, after all, run out of energon within the first week, so when he made it here, Drift was already starving and barely functional. But, he was used to it. Guttermech to the end. How fitting. Drift shivers and groans in pain, trying to turn on his side and curl up. Slag, he feels awful…and on top of it all, he REALLY wants another hit. For once in a very long time he didn’t feel a thing. Life was blissful and pain free. His mind was blank, wandering wherever it wanted to go, not dwelling on the demons of his past or the misery of his present. 

“Drift! Drift! It’s all right. I’m here. It’s okay…” 

Ratchet…frag, was Drift really that pathetic? He hadn’t even noticed his intakes and ventilations were hitching wildly or that his motor was redlining and ticking. “R-Ratch…I…”

“It’s alright, Drift,” Ratchet gently rubs the swordsmech back and lovingly rubs his finial, noting how Drift instantly relaxed into the touch, almost melting against it, the poor kid probably hasn’t been comforted in…too damn long for Ratchet’s sake. “You’re safe and I won’t let anything happen to you. I found what I need, so I’m going to start your repairs. I found some energon, but not enough to transfuse you, so, I’m gonna hook you up to me and share what I have. And, Drift, don’t you DARE argue with me. Understood?”

The protest that was about to take flight from Drift’s vocalizer stalls out and ends in a burst of static. Best he can manage is a pout. And be damned if isn’t gonna be the most adorable pout he’s ever pouted.

“That’s right and don’t you give me that pouting nonsense. It won’t work,” Well, that’s not ENTIRELY true; Drift really does look incredibly adorable when he pouts. Aaaaaand it makes Ratchet’s spark flutter something fierce—but still!

“I’m your medic and your friend and I lo—will fix you.” Ratchet blushes as he hooks up the line between them, feeding Drift his energon. Oh and of course! Now Drift is giving him those big, innocent optics of his…pale optics…aw Drift. Ratchet gently caresses the speedsters’ finial again and begins his repairs. 

“Just try and relax, Drift. This is gonna take a while and I can’t give you anything for pain or a sedative since we’re—“

Drift smiles crookedly up at his savior, the mech he loves, “…connected…”

Ratchet blushes again, nodding as he returns the crooked smile down at the mech that makes his spark race, “Yeah…connected.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for being soooooooooooooooooooo slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow...... My muse has been teasing me and it's driving me insane... Luckily tonight Ratch and Drift were cooperating. Dear Primus I love these two... This chapter is short, but oh so sweet. Enjoy! Oh and I didn't proofread and it's 5 am and I find I just don't care...my apologies again....I'm going to bed now...nighty night!

Ratchet finally finishes the repairs to Drift and disconnects the energon line between them, slumping into a chair beside the berth. He’s exhausted and he probably gave Drift more of his energon than was wise to do so, but how could he not? He’d do anything for Drift. 

Ratchet fondly looks over Drift, who thankfully passed out during his repairs, and gently rubs his finials. “Aw, kid…” Ratchet lets out a long sigh and takes hold of Drift’s hand, gently rubbing the top of the black palm with his thumb. Drift’s injuries were bad. The worse he’d ever seen the kid suffer. Not fair. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t need repairs. Shouldn’t be hurt. Again. His speedster should be back on the _Lost Light_ with Ratchet, or, preferably the two of them should be living in a nice apartment, above his own practice, where every night they’d fuel together and then curl up in a very large berth and—Ratchet is pulled from his happy little daydream by a groaning speedster.

“…R-Ratch?” Drift slowly makes his return to consciousness, his fingers curling weakly into Ratchet’s hand.

“I’m here, kid. I’m here. How ya feeling?” Ratchet squeezes Drift hand, using his other hand to smooth over Drift’s forehelm and rub the base of a finial.

“L-like…s-slag…” Drift’s optics open slowly as he turns toward Ratchet, his gaze wandering all over the ambulance. Wow…Ratchet really is gorgeous. Drift’s spark spins and flutters in its casing. Ratchet saved him again and Drift can’t help but flash the medic a tired, yet cheeky grin.

Ratchet chuckles at that cheeky grin he loves so much and grins back at his speedster, teasing playfully, “Like slag, huh? I must be losing my touch,” 

“N-nah, never…and I like your t-touch…” _I like it a lot; actually, Ratch…_ Drift feels his finials blush and then his cheeks flush.

Ratchet’s optics widen at Drift’s comment, his spark flipping with excitement. Ratchet always thought the kid had some kind of hero worship infatuation with him, but…could it…could it possibly run deeper? “Drift…”

Oh no…did he misread Ratchet—he hopes not—but…but…that look on Ratchet’s face when he helped Drift up the day he left the _Lost Light_ sure made it seemed like he cared. He had that same look a bunch of times tonight, too. And just now…with the smile. And Drift swears he felt something in the medics field. That LOOK though…the look that was like Ratchet had wanted to tell him to stay…that Ratchet needed him. Wanted him. Maybe Ratchet feels the same way? Slag it! Drift has to know. NEEDS to know. Maybe if he tells Ratchet how HE feels, Ratchet will tell Drift how he feels. Drift is gonna tell Ratchet. He _needs_ to tell Ratchet! Now. Right this second. Drift is going to look Ratchet right in the optics and tell the doctor exactly how he feels. 

“Ratchet?” Here we go…oh Primus…

“Y-Yeah, kid?” 

“Ratchet…Ratch, I need to tell you something…” Drift looks down at his hand still curled into Ratchet’s, his spark practically beating out of his chest, positive Ratchet can hear it. Drift’s engine gives a nervous rev and he shakily cycles air out of his vents. He can feel Ratchet’s optics locked onto him, waiting…hoping? Drift feels Ratchet’s EM field softly pushing against his, buzzing with the same nervousness and hope as the speedsters. That’s a good thing, right?! Drift flicks his optics upwards and meets Ratchet’s anxious stare with one of his own. “H-Help me sit up, Ratch…”

 

Ratchet blinks at Drift’s request. Really? Disappointment replacing the nervousness and hope in his field. “Drift, you need to stay laying down. You’ve been through severe trauma. You need to rest—“

“Ratchet, PLEASE help me sit up s-so I can talk to you,” Ugh…Ratchet is right. He doesn’t feel good. Drift should be laying down. Everything is spinning…focus Drift. Focus. “I don’t wanna talk flat on my back, okay?” Drift pleads, giving Ratchet his most adorable pout.

“You’re a real pain in my aft, kid, ya know that?” Ratchet rolls his optics at the pout and helps Drift up—carefully—supporting the speedster with one arm around his back and the other on his waist. “You really should be laying down, Drift. You were just transfused and you just woke up from serious surgery,”

“I know...a-and I promise…I…I p-promise I will…lay back…” Drift groans in pain, despite his best efforts to disguise it (cheeky grin included) as Ratchet helps him to sit up. “…d-down after I tuh-tell you…”

“Drift…” Ratchet frown at Drift’s groan and pain induced stuttering.

“R-Ratch…please…”

Ratchet sighs heavily and gently rubs the speedsters back. “Now what is so damn important that you needed to sit up and risk tearing open welds to tell me?”

Drift moans softly in pleasure at the gentle rubs on his back, leaning heavily into Ratchet. He looks into the medic’s optics and places his hand on Ratchet’s arm. “Ratchet, I love you,”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize again for the long time between. I'm having a hell of time...but I'm trying! I didn't edit so I apologize for any and all errors. I really hope you guys enjoy!

“Uh…R-Ratch?” Oh no! He’s not saying anything! Drift was wrong! Sooooo wrong! Oh Primus…oh frag…oh no oh no oh no! Oh how stupid you are Drift! Ratchet would NEVER fall in love with someone like you! Rodimus was right. And just when Drift thought that maybe—just maybe—that Ratchet didn’t care about his past…or…or maybe Ratch just accepts him flaws and all…but no…Drift is and always will be a murdering, gutter whore addict. His intakes hitch and tears well up in his optics, despite how hard he tries to not show his emotions. Just one more thing Drift sucks at: hiding his emotions; his spark forever on his forearm armor. He blew it. Again! Unable to bear rejection from the mech he loves more than life itself, the speedster starts to pull away from Ratchet’s wonderful arms.

He loves me! Drift. Drift—Ratchet’s pain-in-the-aft swordsmech— loves him. Ratchet! An old, washed up medic with a killers hands. A boxy, unattractive, grumpy (did he say old?) ambulance. A hot, oh-so-very-sexy…curvy, beautiful, sweet little speedster is in love with him. _Well I’ll be damned._ Warnings pop up in Ratchet’s field, dragging him from his fantasy that something is wrong, horribly wrong and he had better act fast. Ratchet blinks, his optics coming back into focus. Drift! Slag it, he’s pulling away… The poor kid probably thinks Ratchet is trying to come up with a reason to let him down gently. _I don’t think so._ Ratchet ain’t loosin’ the kid now! He gently pulls the trembling speedster back in his arms and very tenderly, very lovingly presses his lips against Drift’s. Ratchet delicately, ever so softly moves his lips against Drift’s. Ratchet smiles to himself; the kid has no idea to kiss and he’s rather adorably trying his very best to kiss Ratchet back.

Drift blinks, stunned and his finials heat up, glowing a lovely shade of I’m-hot-for-you-doc-pink. Ratchet’s…Ratchet is kissing me? Me?! Ratch is…ooooh…oh that’s …oh that’s nice…oh, Ratchet…Ratchet kisses really good. Oooooh, PRIMUS…it feels really, really nice… _And I have no idea what I’m doing…_ Ratchet does care! No—wait—he’s always cared. Is it possible that Ratchet always felt this way about him? The doc IS actively returning Drift’s affection now. With a kiss! A really, really wonderful, PERFECT kiss! Drift whimpers softly into Ratchet’s mouth, gasping when Ratchet glossa runs over his lips and slides into his mouth. Drift moans and presses his palms to Ratchet’s chest glass, his entire frame trembling in the strong arms of his medic.

Ratchet grins brightly and slides a talented hand up Drift’s back, over his neck and up his helm to affectionately rub the base of one of Drift’s warm and glowing finials, delighted at the startled groan and subsequent purr coming from Drift at his touch. The older mech refrains from chuckling, knowing Drift wouldn’t understand. Instead he gently pulls and kisses the center of his speedster’s forehelm. 

“You are so beautiful, Drift. Do you know that?” Ratchet kisses Drift’s forehelm again. 

Drift shivers and smiles sweetly at the kisses, his finials getting warmer and darker. “Ratch…I…I’m not…but, um, t-thanks?” 

Drift shivers again, his trembling getting worse. How is possible to be cold and warm at the same time? Does this mean Ratchet loves him? Drift really isn’t sure. His understanding of love and kind words is not really normal. Usually, such declarations were lies intended to get him to lower his guard for a beating or a rape, or they were uttered as his clients in the Dead End overloaded. But that’s not Ratchet. Drift looks up at Ratchet confused. 

“Uh, Ratchet?”

Ratchet soothingly rubs Drift’s back as he watches the confusion form on Drift’s face and ripple in his field. He doesn’t fail to notice the speedster’s shivering and trembling getting worse either. 

“Let’s get you settled down first and then I’ll answer any and all questions, alright, kid?” Ratchet asks.

Panic wells up in Drift’s spark and he frowns as he blurts out his reply, “Please don’t leave me, Ratchet…please don’t let me go!”

The look on Drift’s face along with his simple, sparkfelt request, breaks Ratchet’s spark. “I won’t ever leave you, Drift and I have no intention of letting you go. I love you, Drift,” 

Drift beams up at Ratchet and shakily wraps his arms around his Ratchet in as tight a hug as he can, given his condition, of course. Drift’s spark fills with warmth, love, and joy which then radiates out into his field.

Ratchet grins and gently lowers his Drift back on the berth. He shakes out the blankets he grabbed earlier and covers Drift up almost all the way, amused at the puzzled frown from Drift. 

“I can’t hold ya till I get in with you,” Ratchet chuckles and climbs up next to Drift, then very carefully pulls him into his arms and covers them both with the blankets.

Drift winces and gasps in pain as he moved.

“I’m so sorry it hurts, kid,” Ratchet settles down and kisses Drift’s forehelm, making sure Drift’s as comfortable as he can be. “How’s this?”

“N-Not your f-fault, Ratch,” Drift shivers and weakly snuggles closer, having no trouble managing a smile, because he really is happy despite his agony and misery. Drift takes a moment to answer, static heavy in his vocalizer. “T-This is…p-perfect…R-Ratch…”

Ratchet pulls Drift closer and gently rubs his back with one hand while his other softly caresses Drift’s cheek. Ratchet’s spark aches at the smile despite the pain and the static in his love’s vocalizer. _My poor Drift._ “You’re perfect,” Another kiss to the swordsmech’s forehelm, “You need to rest, Drift. You need to heal,”

“M’k-kay…” Drift closes his optics and nestles into Ratchet. His Ratchet. For the first time in a long time, he feels safe. Loved. Such rare things in his life. A powerful shudder rips through his frame and Drift whimpers. “R-Ratch…”

Ratchet holds Drift protectively and nuzzles him lovingly. “I got ya. You’re safe, kid. It’s gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay. I’m here and I’m not gonna leave you,” Ratchet kisses Drift’s helm. “I love you, Drift. With all my spark.”

“…l-love you…s’much…R-Ratch…” Drift smiles, settling almost instantly at Ratchet’s words, the trust and safety Drift feels for Ratchet filling his field as recharge claims him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just kept on going! I tried out a new method of uploading so hopefully this works! I didn't really edit cos I am super excited to get it up, but I will be going back later and checking for mistakes. I hope you all like! :D
> 
> P. S. I redeemed Roddy. Sort of. Lol

Rung patiently waits outside of Rodimus' office for the captain to let him in. After speaking with Ultra Magnus and then First Aid, who was absolutely furious and in such a state of anxiety he needed to be sedated, Rung actually ran here. Ahhhhh...finally... 

"Hello, Rodimus," The psychiatrist smiles warmly, but concerned as Rodimus opens the door. Oh dear, he looks awful. "May I come in please? I think it wise." Rung smiles again hoping to dissuade the sports car from refusing. 

Rodimus sighs deeply, tiredly and walks over to his desk. "Sure...whatever you want..." He plops down into his chair and resumes his carving into the desk. 

Oh! Well this is unexpected...unexpected and far worse than Rung had anticipated. He was not expecting the captain to be so...docile. He steps inside, shivering slightly from the breeze as the door automatically closes behind him. Making his way over to Rodimus, Rung rights a flipped chair and pulls it in front of the captain's desk. The small mech takes his seat and crosses his legs. 

"Would you like to tell me what happened? How you are feeling? "

Rodimus hangs his helm, stubbornly focusing on his scribbles. He feels like a dam about to burst. All he needs is an outlet and wouldn't ya know...

"You know damn well what h-happened! Everyone on this ship does! How am I feeling?! How! How do you think!" 

Rodimus slams his fists on his desk and looks up at Rung with dull optics and quivering lower lip. Tears well up all of a sudden and then burst as the captain lets out a pitiful sounding sob. "I broke my b-best friend. I b-betrayed my best friend. I spit, Rung. SPIT! On my broken, battered best friend. Oh my Primus the things I said to him!. .. I banished our medic...I'm a monster..." Rodimus is shaking, his guilt crushing him. It's unbearable. "Rung...Drift was r-ra-I can't even say it-he was a mess...I don't know what's wrong with me.... First Aid hates me..... Frag I feel sick... Magnus hates me too... Ratchet wants to kill me and ya know what? I want him to. I deserve it," He washes his face with his hands and then folds them behind his neck, interlocking his fingers, his elbows on the desk holding him up. "I royally fucked up." 

Rung patiently listens to Rodimus, surprised at the captain's admissions and self realizations. "First off no one on this ship hates you," Rung silences the protest he can see forming on Rodimus' face when the captain raises his helm briefly, with a tiny hand up. 

"Ratchet is furious, rightfully so. But do you know why?" Rung waits for the shake of the captains helm.

"Ratchet loves Drift," And there's the scowl... "It is obvious, Rodimus. To everyone but them, I'm sure. I know for a fact Ultra Magnus does not hate you. You did not 'fuck up', Rodimus, you let your emotions get the better of you. You acted without thought. You projected your hatred of yourself for exiling Drift, onto him. You wanted him to hurt because you hurt. And I think you know how Drift feels about Ratchet and you are jealous because what you feel for Drift is unrequited. And so when you saw their interaction, it officially confirmed it for you and then you became incensed and took it out on Drift. You know how very easy it is to make Drift hurt, and then once you lashed out you were left feeling empty and miserable at which point you then succumbed to guilt, because you truly did not mean to hurt Drift."

Rodimus drops his still sore jaw and stares dumbfounded at Rung. How... The... Frag... 

"Uh...y-yeah..." Rodimus drops his helm on his desk and whines. "I called him a whore, Rung!. An addict- gutter - trash whore, to be precise. Told him he was worthless and a liar and a murderer. Said he was a failure and all the bad slag in his life was his fault... Shit!" He gasps and snaps his helm up, meeting Rung's optics. "Oh, Rung! I accused him of killing Wing and stealing his Great Sword!!" 

Rung holds his intakes while Rodimus speaks. Oh dear. "Er, Wing? I am afraid I am at loss as to who that is,"

Rodimus really feels sick. Oh god...he's gonna purge his tanks... He really is. "Wing is Drift's idol. His mentor, Rung!" Rodimus throws his arms up, "The mech responsible for who Drift is today! Ya know that big aft sword Drift wears? Yeah....well that was Wing's sword. Dai Atlas gave it to Drift when Wing died. Made Drift a Knight. A KNIGHT, Rung! Drift told me all about it, well, mostly all of it, after Chaos...once he healed from stabbing himself with the sword... Oh god Oh god.... I called a Knight a worthless whore... " Rodimus can't help the wince as he continues. The look on Rung's faceplates really aren't helping things either."I... I'm gonna purge! " And with that Rodimus empties his tanks onto the floor. 

Rung is absolutely stunned. For once in his life, he is speechless. He stares at Rodimus as the speedster purges his tanks. Oh dear. 

****

Ultra Magnus watches helplessly as First Aid packs medical supplies and energon, and anything else Ratchet's replacement can think of, into several portable cases. Ultra Magnus sighs heavily. 

"First Aid, please. We need you here-"

"And whose fault is that, Ultra Magnus? I wouldn't have to if that imbecile didn't banish my mentor and friend AND the mech HE LOVES!" Oh but First Aid furious! This is utterly insane! He's not ready to take over! Especially now! After everything that happened...calm down Aid... Calm down. Oh how he misses his brothers. And with Ratchet gone...well...it just makes it all so much worse. Not that Ratchet was really doing all that well without Drift...

First Aid shakes his helm, his visor flashing brightly as he speaks. "I'm going, Ultra Magnus and I'm bringing them both back here. I don't care what Rodimus says. Let's just hope Rung can talk some sense into him," 

Ultra Magnus knows First Aid is right, but... "That doesn't change the fact that you just  
woke up from an anxiety attack powerful enough to require sedation. You should be resting, not to mention it isn't safe to go alone." 

"He's right you know. You'll need back up. So I'm going with you," Fortress Maximus pushes off against his spot in the doorway, daring both First Aid and Ultra Magnus to deny him with an intense look. Yeah, that's what he thought. Fort Max smirks and picks up the portable cases, fitting them smoothly into his subspace. 

First Aid feels his spark stop and then flutter as Max announces himself, grinning giddily. The junior medic cheeks heat up, flushing a bright shade of red as he watches Max effortlessly subspace the cases, and boy is he ever so grateful for his facemask. His visor brightens as he looks up at Max. "You w-wouldn't mind, M-Max ?" 

Fort Max grins down at the little medic that has captured his spark, his powerful tank treads flexing back and forth when he sees First Aid's visor glowing noticeably brighter, "Of course not, Aid. I...I, uh, I'd do anything for you," Max blushes and ducks his helm bashfully, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, his audial horns wiggling slightly. 

Ultra Magnus smiles sadly as he watches the heavy flirting between First Aid and Fortress Maximus. Love is all around for all but him. The second-in-command sighs, turning around and exiting the medibay unnoticed, which is alright, and he is truly happy for the two of them, who hopefully will admit their feelings to the other sooner rather than later. Speaking of admissions of feelings...Ultra Magnus should go and check on his captain. He just had to go and fall for Rodimus. Magnus had known since day one that Rodimus had wanted Drift. And Magnus had also known that the ex-Con had absolutely no interest in his friend and Captain. The object of Drift's affection, however, was a certain grumpy old medic. How Rodimus had not figured it out--maybe he had...no, not maybe, he had definitely known, but refused to accept it and actively worked to change it. Oh, Rodimus...Ultra Magnus stops just outside of Rodimus' office debating whether or not to enter when the door opens. 

"Oh! Ultra Magnus!" Rung exclaims, "Just the very mech I was hoping to find," Rung lowers his voice and leans closer to the larger frame. "Rodimus has had a bit of breakdown, but he is alright. I think he has had enough for today..." Rung smiles softly. "I would like him to rest and I would feel more comfortable and reassured if you could stay with him, watch over him." 

Ultra Magnus nods as his optics take in the sight of Rodimus curled up on his desk, his sensors picking up the scent of processed energon and disinfectant, his spark breaking. "Of course. I will take of him. You are sure he is-" 

Rung looks over at Rodimus and smiles sadly. "He will be. He felt ill and purged his tanks. I trust you'll see to it he fuels?" 

Ultra Magnus nods again and steps into the room as Rung steps out. 

"I am available if you need me. Have a good night, Ultra Magnus." Rung watches as the Lost Light's second-in-command waves him off and shuts the door. Satified-and hopeful-Rung heads to Swerve's in search of Skids. 

***  
Ultra Magnus walks over to Rodimus and gently runs his hand over Rodimus' shoulder, his voice very soft. "I'm going to take you back to your habitation suite, Rodimus,"

Rodimus whimpers and nods, pushing into Magnus' touch." I'm such a horrible mech... How can you stand to be near me?"

Magnus very gently slides his arms under his captain and picks him up, cradling the smaller mech to his chest. "You are not horrible, Rodimus. You are impulsive and you do not think. That's it. You are actually...uh..." Magnus clears his intakes. ".... Uh...quite n-nice," Stop talking Magnus...head to the door. Focus on the door. Open. Good. Now the hallway... 

Rodimus feels his spark leap into his throat and intakes catch. "Really? You don't have to lie, Mags..." Rodimus nuzzles into that big, warm chest desperate for comfort. 

"I am not lying, Rodimus," Magnus' spark flutters and fills with warmth when Rodimus nuzzles into his chest, close to his spark. 'Mags'... There's that flutter again... Oh... Oh... By the Matrix he's doing it again... Focus...okay...okay...almost there... 

Rodimus continues to nuzzle against Ultra Magnus' until he finally gets situated comfortably. "You promise? I was awful to Drift. And Ratchet. I was just so mad! I feel terrible, Mags...really, really terrible."

Ultra Magnus' legs feel like...like...what was that word Verity used to say... Oh! Jello. Yes. His leg struts feel like Jello. Or was it jelly? Focus! He resets his vocalizer and opens the door to Rodimus' hab suite. "Of course I promise. Lying is counterproductive," Magnus intakes deep and vents out slowly, "Rodimus, we all say things out of anger and hurt that we don't mean. It doesn't make us terrible mechs. It makes us Cybertronian. You're not a bad person, Rodimus." Weak legs! Need to sit. His spark won't stop hammering. He sits down on Rodimus' berth and leans back against the wall-with the captain still nestled in his arms... 

Rodimus smiles and snuggles up in Ultra Magnus' lap, relaxing more against the warm frame, very happy that Ultra Magnus didn't just drop him on his berth. The very warm, very large frame. Rodimus shifts a little and tilts his helm, giving Magnus the most adorable puppy dog optics-ever. "Magnus?" 

Ultra Magnus looks down and meets those pouty lips and puppy dog optics and that's it...He can no longer hide. His spark aches ..."Rodimus, I love you," 

****  
Ratchet wakes up with a start, his frame shaking and ice cold. He blinks, taking a moment to figure out why. Drift. His Drift. Ratchet's processor is slow to boot up, the transfusion and lack of fuel following making him sluggish. His coding finally kicks in and he sits up a bit, scanning the trembling mech at his side. 

"Drift...kid...wake up. Wake up for me, please?" Ratchet gently pulls the speedster into his lap, pulling the covers completely over them, tucking Drift in. The older mech increases his idle and opens his vents and plating to fill the blankets with warm air. 

Drift groans and whimpers, trying to nestle closer to that nice warmth. 

"Kid, c'mon...I need you to wake up, just for a little bit,"

The swordsmech groans again and rubs his nasal ridge against Ratchet's chest. ".....mmnn'ti'rd....I 's......co'l.....h-h' rt... " Drift's words come out slurred, his vocalizer filled with static. 

Ratchet pulls him closer and nuzzles his helm with Drift's. "I know, kid, by the Matrix do I know," The medic softly kisses the speedster's forehelm and cocoons them both in the blankets. 

"I have some heavy medical grade fuel I want you to drink, okay? I'm going to help you, kid. Here, we'll sit up a bit," Ratchet gently cradles the swordsmech's helm in the crook of his arm and holds Drift up a bit, while his other arm retrieves the pouch from his subspace. 

Drift shakes his helm weakly. "N-No...s'you...." He groans out the last word and turns his face into Ratchet's bicep strut. 

Ratchet sighs heavily and rolls his optics, gently nudging Drift's face off his upper arm. "Drift, you are going to fuel. I am fine. I'm a medic, I'm built stronger than you. Now open up. For me. Please," 

Drift huffs and pouts and reluctantly submits, "....j-jus'f'syou..."

Ratchet smiles lovingly and opens the pouch with his denta, bringing the open pouch to Drift's lips. " Thank you, Drift. Nice and slow now, kid," 

Drift's spark fills with love and warmth when Ratchet smiles at him. Well, if doing what Ratchet says results in that smile, he'll happily obey him all the time. He smiles up at Ratchet and takes the tip of the offered pouch into his mouth. 

Ratchet carefully tips the pouch, slowly squeezing the thick fuel into the speedster's mouth. 

Drift moans in pleasure at the taste of the medical grade and slowly swallows despite wanting to suck the whole damn pouch down his throat. Oh that's gooooood. Really good. His field ripples in pleasure, his optics brightening a little, conveying just how appreciative he is. 

Ratchet's spark fills with love, his field pressing against Drift's filled with affection and pride and joy. "That's it, love. You're doing good, kid,"

The medic leans down and kisses the top of Drift's helm. "I love you so much, Drift. I have loved you for a long time... It...it just took this grumpy old mech a Pit of a long time to get it through his thick helm plating," Tears well up in Ratchet's optics as he continues. "I missed you...so much...I was so lost without you and I don't give a scrap how cliché that sounds cos it's slagging true, kid. The best days were the ones where you were pissing me off with all that 'positive energy' slag and aura slag..." Ratchet grins down at Drift, who has tears sliding down his own cheeks now. "You are the brightest spark I have ever seen, kid. You are the...the...l-light of my existence...the reason," Ratchet's intakes catch and his vocalizer fills with static, "...the r-reason my spark spins and pulses," The medic doesn't miss the way Drift's optics sparkle at the not-so-medical reason for the ambulance's explanation of spark beats and life. Ratchet chuckles a little. "Yeah, yeah... I know. I love ya so much, Drift. I wish I would have figured it out a lot sooner. I need you in my life."

Drift's spark feels as if is going to explode,it's racing so fast. He hangs on every word Ratchet says praying that this isn't a dream, fearing it is because these were the exact words he has wanted so desperately to hear from Ratchet. He quickly finishes the pouch, leaving it just where it is afraid to break the spell. Drift feels his own tears start to roll down his face, his spark aching, yearning for Ratchet's, at least he thinks that's what it means. He honestly has no idea. Oh! Drift? Drift is the reason for Ratchet's spark...ooooh this, now this, Drift is filing away for later to tease the good doctor about for sure! The swordsmech's optics glitter with mischief at that. Drift's intakes hitch and his finials turn pink at the doctors next words. Ratchet needs him! Ratch NEEDS him! Drift!

Drift whimpers softly and moves his mouth away from the empty pouch. "R-Ratch..." Yikes! His voice is all high pitched and staticky. 

Ratchet smiles very lovingly, gently wiping away Drift's tears and the little bit of energon that lingered on the speedster's lower lip. "You are so beautiful, Drift," 

Drift's finials turn from pink to red and he looks up at Ratchet full of wonder, "R-Ratchet..." 

Ratchet continues to smile and presses his lips to Drift's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give a special shout out to vienn_peridot (who writes awesome stuffs! Go check it out!). We share a head canon that Drift gets cold-really cold- whenever he is at rest. Or injured. Or sitting still. It's adorable. Loopy, slurring, shivering Drift is just too sweet and cute to not write. But anyway, I just wanted to thanks to you!! Oh, and you totally inspired the whole Drift-needs-to-be-hand-fed-when-sick. There are so many of you awesome writers out there with just utterly perfect head canons that we all should get together and make it collective! Why? Because it's Fun! =D Uh... So yeah! Big shout out to vienn_peridot! Woot woot. Primus be with you all. :3


End file.
